


What Counts

by Laikin394



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Foot Fetish, M/M, Out of Character, cladois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 12:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14020338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laikin394/pseuds/Laikin394
Summary: Alois tries to distract Claude from work. He is relatively successful.





	What Counts

**Author's Note:**

> AKA the PWP that took a different turn

"Your Highness?" Claude doesn't raise his head when Alois enters the room, although the quick strokes of the quill over his ledger slow down.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I didn't. But I would be very disappointed should any of the servants break from their duties. So I took an educated guess."

"Is that your way of telling me I disappointed you, Claude?"

The boy slams his hand down, covering the page Claude was writing on. The butler puts the quill away, resting his hands on his knees.

"This is my way of saying I assumed I knew the whereabouts of everyone in this mansion. Why are you not attending your fencing class, Your Highness?"

"Ah," Alois lifts his hand. The semi-dry ink glues the page to his palm, making his scowl. "I sacked the moron."

"This is the third teacher to lose the position this month. May I ask what was the matter?"

"He's dull." Alois walks around the chair, drumming his fingers on its wooden frame. "And old."

"This was the youngest accomplished tutor I could possibly hire."

"He's ancient," Alois draws, putting his head on Claude's shoulder.

"Mister Turner is twenty-six years old."

"My point exactly!" Alois tiptoes to peek over. His hair brushes Claude's cheek, but the butler ignores it. "What are you doing?"

"Accounting."

"That is even more dull."

"Precisely why I am the one doing it, not Your Highness."

Alois giggles. He moves to prop himself against the arm rest, his left arm casually draped around the back of the chair.

"I would have to learn how to do that eventually. Would you like to teach me, since I have some time to spare?"

"If Your Highness insists."

"Mm, do I?" Alois wobbles in his seat. Instead of straightening up, he leans further back, sliding into his butler's lap. "Oops," he chirps, a little too happily for anyone to believe it was an accident. He wiggles, trying to find a more comfortable position. "So?" He pinches Claude's chin between his thumb and forefinger, coaxing the demon to look down at him. Alois's eyes are crinkled with mischief, even when he attempts to portray the innocence by batting his lashes. "I'm very eager for you..." the boy pauses to glide his tongue over his lips. "...to teach me."

"I do not believe this is appropriate, Your Highness."

"Oh?" Alois coos. "Since when do you find accounting to be inappropriate?"

"I was talking about your position, master."

"How would you like me then?" Alois grinds down, rotating his hips in languid circles. "Cla-aude," he breathes, leaning forward and nuzzling his butler's neck. "Well?" he demands, jerking back. Alois tilts his head and closes his right eye, regarding the demon through his left. "Hmmph, fine."

The boy bolts up and plops onto the desk behind him. The corner of Claude's mouth twitches at the sound of the ledger rumpling under Alois's buttocks.

"Is this better?" Alois strikes a pose, propping his elbow on the knee of his left leg. He puts too much weight on it and the heel of his boot slips, leaving scratches over the polished desktop.

"Hardly."

"Oh hush, you're never satisfied. What's wrong with my position _now_?"

"Aside from placing your shoes where they normally would not belong?"

Alois snickers.

"You're right, Claude. Ah, silly me. Well, that's easily amended. Why don't you remove them?"

Alois dangles his foot in the air, close enough to Claude's face to kick the glasses off his nose.

"Now!" Alois adds darkly. His tone suggests he won't tolerate any argument.

Claude wraps his left hand around the boy's ankle, starting to work on the lacing with his right. He frees the stocking-clad foot from the shoe and Alois immediately places it on Claude's hip.

The boy curls his toes as his foot creeps higher up the demon's leg. The rustle of wool against the impeccably pressed fabric of Claude's trousers sends a jolt of excitement down his spine. Alois bites his lip, his foot inching higher still. He tucks it under his butler's coat, resting his toes against Claude's hipbone.

“I've changed my mind,” Alois watches Claude place his boot on the floor. He waits for Claude to straighten before adding, “I have no interest in accounting.”

“I have anticipated as much. Then, if I'm allowed, I'd prefer...”

“No! Stay!”

Claude's eyes widen when he finds himself pinned to the back of the chair. He looks down at the boy's foot against his chest but makes no further attempt to move.

“There are other... things... we could study, Claude.”

“Oh?”

Alois isn't discouraged by the complete lack of interest in his voice. He resumes the teasing swirls of his toes up and down Claude's leg. The contrast between trying to keep the man in place and the light touches over his thigh fills Alois with a wicked sense of power over him.

“I really like your uniform, Claude,” he whispers. “But you know what I would like even more?”

“No, Your Highness.”

“Mhmm but you do-o.” Alois's foot stops over Claude's crotch. “Something that's hidden underneath it.” He rubs it over in circles, applying slight pressure.

“What are you pursuing, Your Highness?”

“Pursuing? I- Ah! Claude!” Alois grunts as his ankle is seized. He winces as he's not released even after a hiss of pain. “I'm just... trying to show some l-love.”

“Love, is it?” Claude's voice is rich with promise.

The boy shivers, his lips parting in a soft gasp. Claude's mouth twists, as if he found the word offensive, yet he leans closer. He stops when his face is hovering over the side of Alois's neck, so close he must hear the thump of the boy's quickened pulse. Alois's stomach tightens, nervousness and excitement mixing up in his blood in equal measure. Claude draws in a long breath, moving back far enough to catch the boy's eye. The demon ignores the whimper of discomfort. His fingers curl around Alois's ankle in a steel grip.

“You speak of love, master, yet you reek of lust.”

“Ow, Claude. Claude!” Alois thrashes to free himself. “Are you mad?” He pulls his leg to his chest, vigorously rubbing the spot over the sharply protruding bones of his ankle. “What is the matter with you? Must you be such a brute?”

“Apologies, You Highness, but I simply loathe being lied to.”

“I'm not lying! Now look what you've done. I'm gonna bruise. Happy?”

“I'm certain this is an exaggeration.” Claude places his hand over the boy's knee. His palm is warm even through his gloves. It's weight against Alois's skin calms him down, recent hurt forgotten. “Allow me to see.”

“No.” Alois purses his lips.

“It isn't the time to be unreasonable.”

“Leave it.”

Alois sighs at the smallest tap of the fingers on his skin. Claude's hand strokes the boy's calf before coming back up. His thumb teases the band of Alois's stocking, curling under it.

“N-no.” Alois argues for the sake of keeping his butler's hands on him a moment longer. The half-hearted protest doesn't prevent Claude from rolling down the black wool, gradually peeling it off Alois's skin. “Ah.”

“Where exactly does it hurt?”

“W-what, do you intend to kiss is better?” Claude stares back at him. “S-sorry, I-uh...” Alois's cheeks warm up. He casts his eyes down. The sight of his leg bared, the stocking rolled up into a strip over his toes only intensifies his embarrassment.

“Maybe.”

“Eh?”

Claude resumes his task. He cradles the boy's bare foot in his hands.

“I said maybe. If master desires to revert to such childish things.”

“I'm not a child!”

“It is merely a fact, not an insult.”

“Ugh! I'm an adult, because... I do adult things.”

“Indeed. Such as 's _howing love_ '.”

“Hey!” Alois jerks his leg, toes pointed at Claude in an accusatory manner. “Don't you mock me.”

“Does repeating your own words constitute mocking, master?”

“You know what I mean!” The ball of his foot touches Claude's cheek. “Where are _your_ manners?”

“I would not do that if I were you, Your Highness.”

“Or what?”

“You might get your toes bitten. Or worse.”

Alois frowns at the deadpan tone.

“You're joking. You wouldn't dare.”

Claude grabs the boy by the heel. His thumb digs into the arch of Alois's foot. It's unpleasant, but not outright painful. He manages to force a smile.

“See, I've told you wouldn't...”

The boy yelps when Claude's tongue grazes his skin. Keeping the eye contact, the demon slides his warm tongue up the curve of Alois's foot in a languid stroke.

“O-oh.” There is a spark of arousal at the base of Alois's spine. It makes him twitch and squirm in his place. “Like I said...”

Claude holds not interest in what point Alois is trying to prove. His mouth engulfs the boy's toe and Alois keens. He wasn't prepared for the velvety warmth that causes delicious heat crawl up his back. It's wicked and most bizarre. He whimpers as Claude's tongue rubs against his digit.

Alois elicits another mewl, a pathetic whimper that accompanies his laboured breathing. His chest is heaving as if he exerted himself. The collar around his neck suddenly feels too tight.

Alois trembles at the hint of teeth closing around him. Claude nips at his toes, far too gentle than he suggested.

“Claude, u-uh... D-do-” Alois gasps when the demon's tongue slithers between his toes. It makes his lower belly throb with a dull ache of lust. Maybe Claude was right about his lasciviousness. “M-m... oh.”

Alois gnaws on his bottom lip as Claude licks up the bridge of his foot. He doesn't stop, continuing up to his ankle and calf, switching to short strokes as if drawing a dotted line.

Alois groans at a bite placed on his thigh. Claude's tongue laving over the injured spot only worsens the sting.

Claude goes up far enough to slide the tip of his tongue under the hem of Alois's shorts, but he doesn't linger there. The boy isn't prepared for another nip, a bit lower, where he can hide it under the stocking. Claude goes back and forth over the marks he left, the one on the boy's thigh turning dark pink already.

Alois giggles when Claude gets to his knee and dips in the crevice beneath it. The laughter sobers him up a little. As keen as he is to soak up all the attention he's receiving, he needs to reciprocate – just to prove he is not a selfish child. He shifts his left leg, placing it in Claude's lap.

“Don't touch me,” Claude says. He grasps his leg, pushing it away. “Master,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Why is that, Claude?” Alois's throat tightens as anger bubbles up in him. “I can do what I want. And you must obey properly. I demand it!”

“Then, if we are speaking of proper behaviour, I must excuse myself.”

“What?” Alois watches his butler stand up. “Claude. Claude!”

The boy jabs his toe against the empty chair as he tries to catch up with Claude. He sucks the air through his clenched teeth, jumping on one leg.

“No, please.” He catches the tails of Claude's coat. The butler makes another step. Refusing to release him, Alois is pulled forward. He looses his balance. The thump of his knees meeting the floor is swallowed my the thick carpet.

“Claude,” he whines. “It shouldn't be like this.” Alois doesn't attempt to stand up. He crawls around the demon to face him and rises on his knees. “I... I can fix it.” The boy reaches out but Claude catches him by the wrist before Alois's fingers come in contact with the front of his trousers.

“What did I say about touching me?”

“I would- fondle you with my mouth. If you want.” Alois wets his lips, the gesture coming out more due to nervousness than attempt at seduction. He knows he must try harder. He blinks the tears away, and tries to smile, ignoring the throbbing ache in his arm. “Would you like that, Claude?”

The butler leans closer, his eyes shifting a little as he studies the boy's face.

“All the effort made to inculcate manners with you only to hear you offer yourself to a servant like a harlot?”

“You are more than a servant, Claude. Stop pretending. All you go on about is my manners. Education. But what about me, Claude? Do you care about _me_?”

The only sound he hears is his own ragged breaths. The tears roll down his cheeks. He feels stupid, so stupid, even more so when his face contorts and Claude's blurred features remain expressionless.

“I... I don't understand. If that's how it is – then what is the point? Why don't you just end this?”

Alois wheezes, but doesn't struggle to get Claude's hand off his throat. His instincts scream for him to run and hide, but instead he opens his eyes wider. He trembles when Claude's thumb strokes his neck just above his Adam's apple. The demon doesn't seem to be in a rush to finish him, but the boy is grateful for it. At least he gets to enjoy that beautiful face up close. He has near to nothing to regret.

Soft lips touch him most delicately, moving up his wet cheeks. He is too scared to breathe as Claude collects the tears off his face. Alois's heart is beating in his throat. He doesn't even notice that he was released.

The boy lets out a shaken sigh, his body still rigid with tension but his stomach flipping over. He frowns in confusion as he feels a ghost of a touch over both of his lids in turn. As Claude's lips pause over the corner oh his eye and graze the boy's temple, Alois is able to sense what is off. He feels them stretch against his skin, as if his ever-stoic butler actually smiled.

“Am I that amusing?”

Something warm covers his mouth. It takes him a moment to realize what it is, but he responds eagerly, though there isn't a chance for him to take charge. Claude kisses him hungrily, yet managing to be careful. It's perfect, just perfect - the pressure of his mouth, the warm slide of his lips, the teasing light strokes of his tongue. Alois's fingers curl into fists, as he craves more, always more of it. He thinks he may actually die if they stop. He doesn't, but there is a tug on his heart when Claude moves away.

Alois watches him pull out a handkerchief and wipe his mouth, erasing any trace of the kiss. He folds it and tucks it back into his breast pocket.

“Quite,” Claude says, leaving the room.

He got his answer, after all. Alois hides his face in his hands, uncertain whether he should weep or feel happy.

 


End file.
